


Black Jared and Bloody Molly

by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Crossdressing, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylsdarkplace/pseuds/Syls%20Darkplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Black Jared and the Proper Molly. After five years on the run, the notorious Black Jared and his molly return to the Caribbean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: I’m reposting this complete with new gift art from the awesome meus_venator. I’d like to thank my beta vennstiel and special thanks to veronikalp for her patience in correcting my Spanish.

 

  _For five years, The Huntress preyed upon the colonies from Nova Scotia to St. Augustine ~~_

The two men approached the beach where the burnt out hull of a ship lay in the shallows. Knots of people stood watching the smoldering remains and talking as children played in the sand.

“Serves ‘em right,” a potbellied man said. “Scoundrels got what they deserved.”

“Deserved?” another countered. “What they deserved was to be strung up by the neck and left kicking.”

“I don’t know,” a tall young man with spotty skin said. “Fire’s a bad way to go.”

“Aye, hope they roasted slow,” said Potbelly. “The blackguards.

“You know they’re talking about us,” Jensen whispered as they got closer. Jared gave a small nod.

“Excuse me, good sirs,” Jared said. “What’s happened here?”

The men turned and eyed the pair from their dark, somber clothes to their worn but serviceable buckle shoes and hats.

Potbelly nodded toward the blackened ribs of the ship arching toward the low, gray clouds. “That’s _The Huntress_.”

“ _The Huntress_? The pirate ship?” Jensen asked.

“Indeed,” Spotty said. “T’was quite a battle. The navy chased her in and blasted her last night.”

 _More like we ran her aground and blew her ourselves,_ thought Jared, but said, “That’s Black Jared’s ship, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” said Potbelly. “Black Jared the scoundrel and his sodomite whore Pretty Jenny.”

“Ha! Pretty Jenny,” said an old man around his pipe. “More like Loose Jenny.”

Jared felt Jensen tense beside him, and his own hand curled into a fist at his side.

“Spread ‘em Wide Jenny,” the old man continued with a cackle. “All-Comers Jenny.”

“Quiet,” said Potbelly. He paused and sniffed as though considering the pirates’ atrocities. “Murderous rogues the lot of them.”

“He wore women’s dresses,” Spotty said. The group of men all looked at him without a word. He blushed red under his spots. “That’s what I heard. I mean, that’s why they called him Pretty Jenny, was it not? What kind of man does that?”

“A perverted one who likes to be buggered by other men,” a short, gruff man who’d just been listening commented.

“I heard he gutted a barmaid in Charleston who sat on Black Jared’s lap,” said Spotty.

“Aye, they had no use for women,” Potbelly said. “They were known to bugger whole crews before slaughtering them and taking their ships.”

Jared sensed Jensen’s growing anger and agitation. “So, they’re dead?” he asked.

The men looked at him as though they’d forgotten that the two strangers were listening.

“Yes,” Potbelly said. “Burned alive.”

“Ah well, that’s fortunate then, isn’t it?” Jared said. “Seems the last of the pirates is gone.”

The men all nodded in agreement. “Aye, and none too soon. Been the scourge of the coast these past five years,” Gruff said, “from Concord to St. Augustine.”

“Yes, so we’ve heard,” Jensen said with deadly calm. “My brother and I will travel with lighter hearts knowing that we won’t be accosted by such villainous criminals now.”

“Brothers?” Potbelly inquired, eyeing the two up and down.

Jared fought the urge to smack Jensen upside the head. “Yes, we’re traveling to Charleston to catch a ship to England.”

“You don’t look much like brothers,” Potbelly said.

Jared shrugged. “It happens.”

“That’s true,” said Spotty.  “You know the Johnsons. Harold is tall and fair, and Walter short and dark.”

“That is no good example,” said Gruff. “Their mother was not too particular.”

“Yes,” Potbelly agreed, “but then there’s the Hoffstetters …”

Jared and Jensen slipped away then and headed toward the harbor where a caravel was tied up and waiting at the pier.

“Brothers? Indeed?” Jared said. He felt an odd mix of discomfort, amusement, and arousal as they walked along the quay.

Jensen shrugged and chuckled. “Misdirection.” He was quiet a moment and frowned. “I never gutted that wench in Charleston.”

“No, indeed,” Jared said. “That’s an outrageous lie. You broke her nose.” He put his head down against the cool, damp breeze.

“She said I was ugly, and she wouldn’t get off your lap.”

“No, she said you were _manly_ , but you showed her how very dainty you are.”

“Bugger off,” Jensen groused.

Jared laughed. “There you see,” Jared said. “So genteel.”

As they walked onto the wooden pier, they saw a figure ahead beside the caravel. Christian stood with his bag at his feet. “So?” he asked.

“Hook, line and sinker,” Jared said.

“Burned alive, they said,” Jensen added with an exaggerated shudder.

“That’s good then,” Christian said. “We’re free.”

“We were always free,” Jensen said.

Christian narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue.

Jared eyed the bag at the first man’s feet. “Christian, you are leaving our company?”

“Aye, Cap, I am,” he replied. “Thought I would go back to London for a spell.”

“You have no family there, have you, Mr. Kane?” Jensen asked.

“No, not as such,” he answered.

Jared’s face split into a grin, and Jensen looked back and forth between the two. “What’s this about then?” he asked.

Christian grew serious and took a deep breath. “I thought I would check in on Miss Polly,” Christian said.

Jensen’s eyes grew wide and he blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I was hoping, with your approval, to ask for her hand,” Christian said. His nervousness was clear, but he managed not to fidget under Jensen’s gaze.

Jensen side-eyed Jared and gave Christian a hard glare. “I don’t own Miss Polly,” he said. “You don’t need my permission.”

“No,” Christian said. “No, but you are the closest she has to an older brother, and well, I don’t think she’ll accept me without your approval.”

Jared held his breath. There had been strong antagonism between Jensen and Christian from the start, and while the two had warmed to one another over the past five years, he’d hardly call them friends.

Jensen tipped his head. He looked like a young Puritan preacher in the severe clothes and hat. There was a long pause before he spoke. “You have my permission to ask for her hand, Christian. Whether she accepts is entirely up to her.”

The tension visibly left Christian’s body. “Thank you,” Christian said. His blue eyes sparkled as though the sun had come out. “I ... thank you, Jensen.”

Jared clapped his friend on the shoulder. “There you see,” he said. They hugged and slapped one another on the back. Christian grabbed his bag and headed down the pier.

“Mr. Kane!” Jensen called out. Christian turned but continued walking backward as Jensen added, “If you harm Polly in any way, I’ll gut you.”

Christian smiled and shook his head. “That goes without saying, M’Lord.” He grinned then and strode away.

“You knew of this,” Jensen said to Jared who shrugged. “Did you encourage him?”

“They enjoyed one another’s company on the trip to Jamaica when Polly left the island,” Jared said. “He’s spoken fondly of her ever since. He’s never wavered on his admiration of her. When we all made this decision to withdraw from the life, he told me he wanted to see her again. I did not encourage or discourage him. They are adults.” Jared started up the gangplank to the caravel.

“He did not have to ask me for permission,” Jensen said as followed Jared aboard.

“No, he could have just pursued her without your knowledge, but he isn’t a coward,” Jared said.

“No, he isn’t that,” Jensen conceded. “Wait, what do you mean they enjoyed one another’s company?”

Jared laughed and shook his head, but when he saw the flash of anger in Jensen’s eyes, he grabbed the other man’s sleeve to stop him from pursuing Christian. “Jen, this was the girl who held a pistol on me, the one who wanted to be a pirate, do you recall? She couldn’t be one, so she had one for a few hours.”

The anger had dissipated, but Jensen still frowned and wouldn’t look Jared in the eye. Jared cupped his smooth shaven cheek and tipped his chin up. “It’s not so different from you and I, love.”

Jensen held his gaze a moment. “No, I suppose not.”

“There, you see,” Jared said. He dropped his hand and surveyed the ship. “Cast off!” he called to the crew. Caro pushed away from quarter deck where she’d been leaning and broke into a wide smile.

“Going home now, are we?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jensen replied, “taking you back to your man.”

“I’m ready for that,” she said. Her voice was warm and light as honey with joy.

“Why did you not stay before?” Jared asked.

She shrugged. “Like you, _The Huntress_ was my home, and I wasn’t ready to leave her,” she answered.

Jared felt the ache of losing his ship, but he smiled. “We have a new home now in St. Nicks,” he said. “And I am promoting you to first mate. Take the wheel and steer us home.”

She grinned. “Aye, Captain.” She climbed to the quarter deck.

“Well done,” Jensen said. He took off his proper hat and tossed it into the harbor.

“You may need that again,” Jared said with a scolding tone.

“It was giving me hives,” Jensen said as he went into their cabin. He shucked off the jacket, unbuttoned the collar and tossed them on the floor. As Jensen began to unbutton his shirt, Jared dropped his hat onto the table and shrugged off his jacket. He sat down at the table, uncorked a bottle of wine, and poured some into a cup. He looked up just as Jensen’s trousers puddle around his ankles. If Jared expected to see bare skin, he was surprised instead to find Jensen wearing the camisole and drawers of a courtesan – ivory linen to below the knee edged with delicate ecru lace. The thought of Jensen standing there at the beach talking with the townspeople whilst hiding a whore’s underwear beneath his Puritan black made Jared’s dick hard.

“Holy Mother,” Jared groaned, “you filthy boy.”

Jensen smirked and straddled Jared’s lap. “The trousers were itchy,” Jensen said.

Jared spread his hands over the cheeks of Jensen’s ass and massaged them through the thin fabric. “Yes, most practical,” Jared said. “Particularly the lace.”

Jensen grinned and kissed him. “The lace has other purposes,” he murmured as he cupped Jared’s hard length through his trousers. Jared chased Jensen’s mouth and kissed him hungrily. He was no longer a boy. He’d packed on solid muscle over the past five years, and his face had lost much of its delicate prettiness. His jaw was squarer, the creases around his eyes deeper, but his lips were as lush, his lashes as thick, and his eyes as green. The combination of soft and tough reflected his nature.

“Take that off,” Jared said with a nod at the camisole. Jensen pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. Jared leaned forward and licked over a nipple. Jensen’s fingers carded through Jared’s hair, nails scraping along his scalp. Jared sucked the peaked nub between his lips and flicked at it with his tongue. Jensen moaned and squirmed on his lap. Hard muscles of his buttocks, rolled in Jared’s palms. Jared let his fingers slide into the crease of Jensen’s ass and found that the seam wasn’t closed.

“You filthy, filthy boy,” Jared murmured against Jensen’s skin as a finger massaged the furled hole. He found it slick with oil. “Always ready.”

“Mm, for your inclination, Captain.” Jensen deftly unbuttoned Jared’s trousers and pulled his dick out. It twitched in the familiar hand, eager as a dog to please its master. Jensen lifted up and moved forward before sinking onto Jared’s cock. When he was settled on Jared’s lap, they kissed long and deep. Jared fought the urge to roll his hips and thrust up into the accommodating heat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jared murmured as he kissed the corner of Jensen’s mouth. Jensen’s channel tightened and relaxed around him. “Gorgeous,” he said and trailed kisses along Jensen’s jaw while his dick endured the torturous pleasure of the rippling muscles. Jared groaned, “You wicked slut.”

Jensen’s laugh was low and dirty. “Do you need relief, Captain?”

“Please, M’Lord,” Jared said as his lips skimmed over Jensen’s pulse. “Please.”

Jensen lifted himself in Jared’s hands and looked down with lust dark eyes. “Fuck me,” he ordered.

Jared released all the energy that had been building in him, brought himself up off the chair, and thrust deep into Jensen. He threw his head back and held Jensen’s hips still in his hands as he worked his lover’s ass like a plow horse a furrow. Jensen’s fingers tangled in Jared’s hair and tugged his head back farther. He licked and sucked at the taut skin. Jared’s rhythm began to falter as he neared his climax, and when Jensen bit down on the muscle of his shoulder, Jared’s body convulsed with released tension and exquisite pleasure. Two shallow thrusts, and his ass dropped to the chair with Jensen tight against him.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned. Jensen laughed against his skin.

“Was that satisfactory?” Jensen asked.

“Mm.”

Jensen sat back with his hands on Jared’s shoulders. “And you made _Caro_ first mate.”

“You think it should have been you? But someone has to pilot the ship whilst we rut, my love,” Jared said. He rubbed at the stinging bite on his shoulder, and his fingers came away streaked with blood.

Jensen smirked. “You have a point.”

“As do you,” Jared said as he grasped Jensen’s still hard cock. He smeared his blood up the length of it.

Jensen squirmed on Jared’s oversensitive dick, eliciting a wince. “You could take care of that,” Jensen said.

“Yes, I probably could,” Jared replied. Instead of stroking Jensen’s cock as he knew his lover expected, Jared lifted Jensen from his lap, his dick slipping free of Jensen’s body, and stood.

“What ...” Jensen said.

Jared grabbed him and shoved him back across the table. “You drew blood, you vicious little beast.”

Jensen’s laugh was cut off with a yelp when Jared grabbed his legs and tipped him onto his back. His head thumped on the tabletop. “Hold your legs,” Jared ordered as he pulled the fabric of Jensen’s drawers open and laved a stripe up the crease of his ass. He licked his come from Jensen’s skin before shoving his tongue into his fucked open hole. Jensen moaned and writhed and tugged at Jared’s hair.

Jared took a breath and said, “Beg.”

“Bugger off,” Jensen gasped.

Jared suckled one of Jensen’s balls and then the other. The grip on his hair grew tighter as Jensen tried to urge Jared’s mouth to his cock. Jared slurped the other ball into his mouth, and Jensen swallowed a moan. When Jared let the flesh slip from his mouth, Jensen was gasping.

“Beg pretty,” Jared ordered.

Jensen glared at him. “Please.”

“You can do better than that,” Jared coached. “Come on, beg like the slut you are.”

Jensen bit his lip and then blew out a trembling breath. “Please, Captain. Sir.”

“That’s better,” Jared said and licked a stripe up Jensen’s cock. Jensen shuddered, and Jared said, “Try again.”

“Please,” Jensen moaned. “Please, Holy Mother of ... buggery, please, please make me come, suck me off, you bastard ...” Jensen squirmed, his heels hooked against Jared’s ribs trying to drag him forward. The tip of Jared’s tongue circled the head of Jensen’s cock, dipped into the slit. Jensen threw his head back and gasped, “Son of the Blessed Virgin! Have mercy ... ugh, I need, pleasepleaseplease, your mouth is better than what’s twixt a slattern’s legs, teasing whore lover ...”

Obscenities and abuse continued to stream from his lips much to Jared’s amusement until he swallowed Jensen’s cock down, and Jensen choked on his own breath. Using his feet against Jared’s sides as leverage, he brought his hips off the table and fucked into Jared’s mouth. Jared rode it out and let Jensen lose control. It didn’t take long, and Jensen pulled Jared down onto his dick and shot straight down his throat with a cry.

When Jensen went limp on the table and fingers became lax in Jared’s hair, Jared stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stretched his back and winced. Jensen looked sheepish.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I think I’ve faired better in bar fights,” Jared said. He rubbed his side where Jensen’s heel had dug in.

Jensen stuck his chin out. “You should not have provoked me,” he said. “You know how I am.”

Jared chuckled. “Indeed I do,” he said. He took Jensen’s hand and pulled him into a sitting position. “You like it rough.”

“Indeed, we are two of a kind,” Jensen said and offered Jared his mouth to kiss.

 

  
The first light of dawn was creeping into the cabin when Jensen awoke. Jared was a solid reassurance at his back. Most days he’d drift back into sleep, and Jared would be up before him, but he was wide awake and restless. He slipped from beneath Jared’s arm and sat up. He lifted Jared’s hair back from his face. Jared’s nose twitched at the tickle of it. His arm stretched across the space Jensen had occupied during the night as though searching for him. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t wake.

Jensen thought of that moment on the deck of _The Dover_ that changed his life when the tall, smiling pirate swung aboard. All Jensen had cared about then was saving his cousins and getting away from his uncle, and Jared had been the means to that end. That he was strong and smart and gorgeous had made the deal sweeter. He’d have never guessed that Jared would be everything he needed, and when Jared had to flee the Caribbean with the hounds at his heels, Jensen didn’t hesitate to leave with him.

Jensen felt around on the floor for his boots and pulled them on. He rose and quickly washed and scrubbed his teeth, considered shaving but decided to wait. He put on a red kimono embroidered with cranes in white and blue and gold. He hadn’t the patience to master the folds and ties of the obi, so he wrapped a wide leather belt with a jeweled buckle around his waist to hold the kimono closed.

He placed his new hat on his head and adjusted it in the mirror. He’d had the broad-brimmed hat custom made of indigo felt with black ostrich plumes and peacock feathers. Gold braid edged the brim which turned up at the front. He had other, more practical hats, but a man could die any day, and he didn’t want to die in a practical hat.

He slipped his dagger into his boot and quietly shut the cabin door behind him. He made his way to the deck where he spotted Caro behind the wheel and Tibbs manning a small stove with a kettle over it.

“Morning, Tibbs,” Jensen said.

“So it seems,” the man yawned. The stubble on the man’s weather beaten face had grown nearly white since they’d fled the islands, but the sailor was still strong and able-bodied. “Tea, M’Lord?”

“Yes,” Jensen replied. “Pour two, and I’ll take one to the first mate.” There had been an awkward period early on when the crewmen hadn’t known what to call him. He held no official position and ‘sir’ felt wrong given his penchant for ladies’ dress, but given his relationship with the captain, his breeding, and fondness for sharp blades, the crew weren’t comfortable with calling him by his first name either. Eventually, they’d fallen to calling him ‘M’Lord’ as Christian had. Jensen had soon learned there could be as many meanings behind it as speakers – from Tibbs’ respect to Christian’s mockery to Jared’s affection.

The morning was gray and misty, and Jensen looked forward to the warm Caribbean sun. “Are we making good time?” he asked.

“Not bad,” Tibbs answered. “The first mate there learned well from the Cap and Mr. Kane.”

Jensen could hear the grudging respect in Tibbs’ tone. “Indeed, Caro is an apt student.”

Tibbs handed the cups of tea to Jensen. “We’ll see how she does when a storm blows in, eh?”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Jensen said. “I want nothing to delay us in reaching home.”

“Ready to retire from the sea, then, are ya?”

“Not entirely, no,” Jensen said. “But a nice sunny island to return to would be lovely.”

“Aye, can’t argue there,” the old man said and rubbed his arms. “Tired of these northern climes.”

“Aye,” Jensen said. He climbed the stairs to the quarter deck where Caro stood. He leaned in and kissed her temple.

She side-eyed him with a smile. “Good morning, you impertinent thing,” she said.

“Was that improper, Sir?” he asked.

She took a hand off the wheel and smacked his ass. “Give me that tea before I have you keel-hauled,” she teased.

Jensen handed her a cup and took a sip of his own. “How long do you think till we reach St. Nicks?”

“A week or so. Depends on the weather,” she said. “Anxious?”

“Are you not eager?”

“Yes,” she said, “and nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jensen asked.

“What kind of woman marries a man and then runs off with pirates?”

“The kind that Idris fell in love with,” Jensen replied.

Caro let out a rueful laugh. “Clever answer,” she said.

“I’m not being clever,” Jensen said. “Are you afraid he’s chosen someone else?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “Someone to warm his bed every night and give him babies?”

“It is possible, but you can’t have regrets,” he said.

“Can’t I?”

“Would you have been content to warm a man’s bed and have his babies while _The Huntress_ rode the waves without you, hm? While we plundered and drank and whored?”

Caro laughed. “You and the Cap don’t whore.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “The Captain and I are whores.”

Caro choked and coughed on her tea. Jensen pounded her back until she caught her breath. Caro wiped her eyes. “Truly, will you be content on St. Nicks?”

“We’ve work to do there,” Jensen said. “The respectable work of farmers and merchants.” His lip curled in distaste.

Caro chuckled. “Lah, love, it won’t last.”

“Hm, you’re insinuating that I’m not respectable.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You have no respect for the respectable.”

“Indeed, but ... that place, it’s mine and I feel a kinship to it, Caro,” he said. “Maybe there’s a way.”

“Yes, maybe.”

 

  
As it turned out, Idris had visited Jamaica frequently and been as faithful to Caro as she had been to him, but he had reserved a place for her in his bed. They’d set about making babies right away, and they had an infant daughter as soon as nature allowed. They named her Diana for the ship that had brought them together.

Idris was a busy man as he managed the rum business and was head of the village. He turned those latter duties over to Caro with the consent of the residents. He had placed dependable, competent managers in the distillery and fields as well as a respected captain on the ship that took the rum to Jamaica and a bookkeeper in the office. While Jared and Jensen learned every aspect of the business, there was little actual work for them to do.

“I’m bored,” Jensen groused as they lay in bed one afternoon. The room smelled of sex and spiced rum. A warm breeze blew in through the louvered shutters. Angel stretched on the dressing table, sending a small pot of rouge bouncing across the floor. “Destructive beast.”

“Mm,” Jared nuzzled against his neck and rubbed a thumb over a nipple.

“You are insatiable, Captain,” Jensen chuckled.

“And you are irresistible, M’Lord,” Jared replied. He drew his leg up over Jensen, his thickening cock pressed to Jensen’s hip. Jensen’s dick began to fatten under the weight of Jared’s leg. They kissed open and deep, without hurry.

Suddenly, there were distant shouts, and Jensen withdrew. “What’s that?”

“Ignore it,” Jared said.

“Let me up,” Jensen said and squirmed from beneath Jared’s leg. He pulled on the trousers he’d abandoned on the floor earlier as he went to the window and opened a shutter.

“What is it?” Jared asked.

“I don’t know. It looks like people have come up from beach,” Jensen said. He tried to make out individuals in the group – sailors and servants, Idris and Caro, a tall woman with pale hair ...  He snatched up his shirt and struggled into it as he rushed from the room.

“Jen! Who is it?”

“A sunflower!” Jensen yelled as he ran across the loggia. He almost didn’t believe his eyes, but that was undoubtedly Christian beside her. “Polly!” Jensen shouted as he approached; she smiled when she saw him and raised her arms to him. She looked lovely – sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. The emerald lay bright on her milky bosom. He wanted to sweep her off her feet, but seeing the rounded mound of her belly beneath her skirts, he settled for hugging her to him and glaring at Christian. He held her out at arm’s length and looked her over.

Polly laughed. “Don’t give Christian such a look, Jenny,” she said. “A husband has a right.”

“To risk your health on such a long ocean journey?”  Jensen asked. “No, he hasn’t any right.”

“I am strong as an ox, I’ll have you know,” Polly said. “And we had a midwife aboard.” She motioned to the small woman beside her. “This is Anna.”

“Polly insisted our son be born here on St. Nicks,” Christian said.

“Insisted, did she? Well, then I cannot hold you accountable, Mr. Kane,” Jensen said. The others were disbursing around them – returning to their tasks and carrying baggage to the house. “And how do you know it will be a boy?” he asked Polly.

“I just know,” she replied.

Jared strode up then and hugged Christian. “It is good to see you, Christian.”

“Aye, and you, Cap,” Christian said.

“I am not a captain anymore,” Jared said. “Just a man.”

Christian frowned as though he were about to say something, but Jared continued, “And another infant on the way. That’s wonderful. Idris and Caro have just had a girl, you know. Have you names chosen?”

“Polly insists it will be a boy,” Jensen said.

“Yes,” she said, “and we’re going to name him Jensen.”

Jared and Jensen looked at each other in surprise. “Indeed?” Jensen asked, “And is that agreeable with you, Mr. Kane?”

Christian nodded. “Were it not for you, I wouldn’t have my Polly,” Christian said. “I am most grateful for everything you have done, Jensen.”

Polly squeezed Jensen’s hand, and he didn’t know what to say. He was relieved when the midwife interrupted, “We should get Mrs. Kane inside, out of the sun.”

“Yes, come along,” Jensen said. He put an arm around Polly’s shoulders. “We’ll have some tea, and you can tell me all about London.”

“It’s so dreary,” she said. “You would hate it, Jenny.”

“I’m sure I would, darling,” he said.

She put her arm around his waist and squeezed him tight. “I’ve missed you so,” she said. “And it’s lovely to be in the sun again.”

“Indeed, I know just how you feel. The North is cold and dull,” he agreed. “I was most happy to return to the islands, and it is good to have you back. How are Nan and the others?”

“They are well,” she said. “Nan married an earl, you know?”

“Yes, so you wrote.”

“Hannah is engaged,” she said. “Matthew and Aubrey are both in school and doing very well.”

“Excellent.”

“Mother’s been unwell,” she said.

“Let’s not speak of her,” he said as they went up the steps to the loggia.

She sighed. “Yes, all right. Tell me about you and the Captain.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

 

  
Jensen leaned in the doorway. He was dressed in his finest boots, loose trousers, linen shirt, and long deep brown jacket with gold frog closures. His broad brimmed indigo hat was on his head. He watched Polly fuss with the infant in the bassinet. His namesake was nearly three months old, healthy but temperamental.

“Good morning,” Polly said with a smile. “Come in.”

Jensen took his hat off and stepped into the room. He leaned over the bassinet and smoothed the baby’s flaxen hair. It looked up with wide eyes and smiled.

“Blue eyes like you and Christian,” he said.

“All infants have blue eyes,” Polly said.

“No reason to think they will change,” he said.

“No, I suppose not.” She looked Jensen over. “Don’t you look fine? What’s the occasion?”

“We’re going, Polly.”

“Going? Where?”

“To sea,” he said. He saw the surprise in her eyes. “Where we belong. Jared and I, we’re not landlubbers.”

“But Black Jared and Pretty Jenny are dead,” she protested. Realizing her voice was rising, she took his arm and drew him away from the crib. “You are safe here, but if you go a roving, people will recognize you. The navy could come after you.”

“Then we will go elsewhere,” he said. “The Spanish colonies perhaps.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “But I just got you back,” she said.

“And I will return from time to time,” he said.

She unclasped the braided chain that held the emerald around her neck. “Then you must have this back,” she said. She reached up and put it around his neck.

“I gave this to you,” he said.

“Yes, and I always believed that it would bring me back to you,” she said and stroked his cheek, “and it did. Now, I’m returning it, so it will bring you back to me.” She dropped her hand from his cheek to the gem. “Christian loves me, and he’s given me a beautiful son,” she whispered. “But I need to know that you are alive out there. Don’t let them end you with a noose.”

“Oh, Polly ...”

She leaned forward and buried her face in his shirt. He held her close as she sobbed. He stroked her hair.

“My girl, shh,” he whispered.

She sniffed and clutched his jacket. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I love you.”

“I know, and I love you.”

“No,” she said. She looked up with tear streaked face and fierce eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“I know,” he said. He pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I know. If I were a different kind of man, it might not be so.”

She shook her head and let out a rueful laugh. “But if you were a different kind of man, I might not feel the same. I’m no fool, Jenny. We were never meant to be.”

“No, love, we were not.”

  



	2. Chapter 2

  
Jensen lounged in a large coil of rope. He had shed his long coat, but his fine feathered hat sat atop his head and shaded his eyes as he read the book on his lap. A bottle of Madeira set beside him while Angel prowled the quarter deck. It couldn’t be true that cats had just nine lives because Jared was sure that Jensen had grieved the animal far more times than that. From the burning of _The Huntress_ to a nasty fall from the cliff on St. Nicks, she had been singed and broken, but she always returned to him.

“Mr. Cohen, take the wheel,” Jared said to the new first mate.

“Aye, Sir,” the young man stepped forward with a smile and what Jared almost took as a wink before turning all his attention on the sea and sails. Jared paused considering for a moment. The young man had come off a British merchantman looking for advancement and adventure. Jared had met him in Tortuga while scouting for crew. Cohen had been bright and affable, but all business. No reason to believe the young man was flirting with him now. Jared shook his head and crouched beside Jensen who looked up from beneath the wide brim of his hat and smiled.

“Feels good does it not to have the roll of the deck beneath your feet again?” Jensen asked.

“Aye, it does indeed,” Jared replied. Sparks of sunlight reflected from the emerald, and Jared touched it with a fingertip. “I thought you gave this away.”

“I did,” Jensen said. “She gave it back. She says it is good luck.”

“Does she?”

“She seems to think it will prevent us getting our necks stretched.”

“Well, I’m all for it then,” Jared said with a grin.

Jensen shrugged. “She worries too much.”

“Why do you say that?” Jared squinted as the wind blew hair into his eyes.

Jensen reached out and tucked it behind his ear. “I’ll not let anything happen to you.”

Jared felt an odd apprehension. “No?” Despite the bright sun, a shadow flickered in the corner of his eye. “You know, Jen, after the storm on St. Nicks, Christian asked me if you were a witch.”

Jensen threw back his head and laughed, but when Jared didn’t laugh with him, he narrowed his eyes and glanced around to see if other crewmen were listening in. “Are you asking?”

Jared searched the familiar green eyes. “No,” he replied. “It’s of no consequence.”

Jensen closed the book and set it aside. He leaned closer to Jared, but let his eyes scan the deck. “How many of them know who we are?”

Jared’s gaze followed Jensen’s but came back to the mossy depths. “Not many – Tibbs, Greasy, Skunk – most of the old ones are dead or moved on,” Jared said. He leaned closer. “I’m Captain Winchester and you are a wealthy, eccentric passenger, Lord Ross.”

Jensen laugh was throaty, and Jared felt it all the way to his groin. He caught Jensen’s mouth in a lingering kiss, and when they parted Jensen licked his lips.

“How long would you say before they know?” he asked.

“I’ll wager we will be halfway to Panama,” Jared said.

“Panama? I thought we were going to Cartagena,” Jensen said.

Jared waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Wherever you like, love,” he said. “As for the wager ...”

Jensen grabbed Jared’s shirt and pulled him into another kiss that left him hard in his trousers. “I will wager it will be sooner,” Jensen said with a sly smile.

“You are a cutthroat player,” Jared huffed.

Jensen shrugged. “I play to win,” he said. “And when has that ever come out to your disadvantage?”

“Never, love,” Jared said. “Not once.”

  
Jensen had been unusually serious since they had reached Cartagena despite the fact that their pockets were lined with gold doubloons they’d taken from a galleon on its way to Panama. Jensen had enjoyed the battle with the Spanish crew as much as anyone, and they’d made the survivors walk the plank before taking the cargo and scuttling the ship.

Jared sat between Jensen and the first mate as they played ombre with Tibbs and Greasy. Skunk and other crewmen played at a nearby table. At the front of the room, a mustached man played flamenco guitar and a large woman in a crimson silk dress trimmed in black lace danced and played castanets. Jared’s head was beginning to pound along with the rhythm of her heels and hands from too much rum and Jensen’s foul temper when the first mate nearly fell from his chair.

“Need some help with your rum, Mr. Cohen?” Jensen sneered.

“No more than you need help with your wardrobe, M’Lord,” Cohen slurred as he braced himself with a hand on the table.

“Careful, Mr. Cohen,” Jared said.

“We’re not aboard ship, Captain,” Cohen said. “You may use my Christian name.”

“Perhaps you should find another ship, Mr. Cohen,” Jensen sniffed and collected his winnings from the pot.

“Perhaps you should just deal the cards, M’Lord,” Cohen slurred.

The front legs of Jared’s chair hit the floor when he saw Jensen’s hand go under the table. He shot a warning glance at Jensen who had murder in his eyes.

“I believe it is time for you to return to the ship, Matthew,” Jared said. “Come. I’ll see you get back without falling in the drink.” Jared grabbed the first mate by the arm and dragged him to his feet. There was cold, dead rage in Jensen’s eyes that Jared found gratifying. He was tired of his lover’s bad temper. Let him stew, Jared thought. They’d have it out later, and he would set Jensen in his place.

“I’m fine, Cap. Do’n need help,” Cohen said, but he listed toward Jared.

“Aye, you’re fine,” Jared said with a chuckle. “Gentlemen, take care.” He nodded at Greasy and Tibbs before meeting Jensen’s glare with a smirk.

~~~

Jensen watched Jared steer the first mate through the tables to the door. Let them go, he thought. If the gray-eyed whore thought Jared would bugger him, he had another thing coming. Still, Jared angered him, pretending not see the way the bitch panted for him.

“We’re a player short now,” Tibbs said.

Jared’s attention jerked back to the table. “Skunk!” he shouted.

“Sir?” the young crewman said. He was the only one of the crew who ever addressed Jensen that way much to Jared’s amusement.

“Make us a fourth,” Jensen said.

“Sorry, mates,” Skunk said quietly to those he’d been playing with. The fact that no one objected made Jensen realize how unreasonable he was being and how afraid of him they all were at that moment. He became aware of the dagger in his hand.

“Never mind!” he growled as he slipped the dagger back in his boot and tossed his cards upon the table. He rose. “I’m through here.”

Greasy and Tibbs exchanged glances. “Goin’ back to the ship, are ya?” Tibbs asked.

“It’s none of your bloody business what I’m doing,” Jensen said.

Tibbs held a hand up in surrender. “Just going to walk back with ya if ya were, that’s all,” Tibbs replied.

“You think I need your protection?”

“Not a bit, M’Lord. Your dagger is more protection than I could ever be,” the man said.

Jensen turned without a word and started for the door, but seeing the tall dancer slip through a curtain to one side of the bar, he followed.

“Senorita,” he said.

She turned, eyes wide with surprise. She was nearly his height with dark eyes and hair like a raven’s wing.

“Lo siento,” he said. “Es muy bonito.” He pointed at her dress.

She smiled and smoothed her hands over the skirt. “Gracias,” she replied.

“Tomar, um, lo ...” His Spanish was rudimentary, so he made a motion like he was pulling something off his shoulders.

“Cómo?” she asked.

“Tomar, no. Quitar, yes? Quitar,” he said.

Anger flashed in her eyes. “Yo no soy puta!”

“No, no, no. No puta,” he said. “Quiero que el, mm, vestido por dinero.” He took out his purse and jingled the coins in it.

“¿Quieres comprar mi vestido?” She shook the fabric of the skirt in her hand.

“Sí, sí,” he said and smiled.

“¿Es para su amante?”

Jensen shook his head and pointed at himself. “Para mí.”

She let out a throaty laugh and held out her hand for payment. Jensen placed three gold coins in her palm before she was satisfied and turned her back to him. Reaching over her shoulder she motioned for him to help her unlace the dress. With much stifled laughter, they exchanged clothes and in the end, he retained his boots and fine hat; she her high-heeled shoes and mantilla. She eyed the emerald that lay against his pale freckled skin.

“¿Usted robó eso?” she asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “Es mía. De mi madre.”

She cocked an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Gracias,” he said and turned to leave.

“¡Espera!” She pulled the ribbon from his queue and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling it forward over his shoulders and tipping his hat just so. “Sí, te ves hermoso.”

“Y usted,” he said.

“Muchas gracias,” she laughed.

Just then a man ducked through the curtain and stopped dead in his tracks. “¿Qué está pasando?”

“Lo puedo explicar,” she said and shooed Jensen out. “Me pagó mucho dinero.”

Jensen stuck to the shadows, slipped out the back door and down the alley to the main cross street. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he’d heard that there was a fine dance hall off the main square where there were dancing girls and sparkling Spanish wine. Fuck Jared. Men were pigs that couldn’t sense when they were being led around by their noses ... or their cocks. So flattered were they by fluttering lashes, submissive gestures, and pretty words that they didn’t know they were being seduced. Well, fuck him, let him be seduced. See how he liked the insipid little bastard in the long run.

Jensen could hear music from the central square as he passed the Convent of Santa Teresa. So intent was he on it that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching from behind until a moment before he was struck and the pavement came up to meet him.

  
Jared half-carried the first mate back toward the harbor. They had to stop twice so Cohen could be sick in the gutter. In all the time Jared had known him, Jensen hadn’t been sick more than twice from drink.

“Is he angry, your Molly?” Cohen asked. “Is he? I din mean, I di ...”

“He’s furious,” Jared said, “but I’ll fuck it out of him. It’s none of your concern.”

“Oh aye,” Cohen said. “Aye, he’s a lucky one. He is.” He tripped and would have gone to his knees were Jared not holding him up.

“Mm, I’m lucky,” Jared said.

“Eh, he’s pretty,” Cohen said. “That he is, but for how long, howlong.”

“He’s more than pretty,” Jared replied. If Cohen weren’t so drunk and Jared himself hadn’t had his fill of rum, he’d probably be angry. As it was, he was feeling the weight of drink dragging his limbs down and dulling his mind.

As they stepped onto the dock, Jared stumbled, and they nearly both went down. Cohen laughed breathlessly. “Ah, Captain, think you’re in your cups.”

  
Jensen felt as though his head were splitting open, and an involuntary groan escaped his lips before he could stop it. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew he was in a bad way. His wrists were bound behind his back and a cloth covered his eyes, allowing only a thin sliver of beneath it. He was sitting on a cool stone floor, knees bent and back propped up against a wall. He heard footfalls and a shadow passed before him.

“Ah, Pretty Jenny,” a man said. There was a hint of an Irish accent in the familiar voice. “Who would have thought we would meet again here?”

“Who are you?” Jensen asked. He felt the shadows of the spirits swirling around him and searched for the door inside that would let them in. He hadn’t gone there since the night on the cliff, but he knew it was still there.

“Don’t you know me?” the man asked.

Jensen’s skirt was lifted and hand caressed the inside of his thigh. Jensen kicked out, but the man was kneeling between his legs. A hand crashed into Jensen’s chin, and his head banged into the wall behind him. Lights flashed behind his eyelids, and he cried out as pain exploded in his head.

“Now then,” the voice said. “You want to know who I am. Why not, eh? You’ll never get the chance to tell the Captain who it was that carved up his pretty whore.” The blindfold was pulled off, and Jensen blinked against the light.

“Carver,” he said. He was wiggling his hands and worrying at the knots, which were expertly tied by the sailor while winding his way down that corridor in his head toward the door. Looking around the enclosed stone room, it wasn’t hard to surmise that they were in catacombs below the convent. Skulls and skeletal remains were stacked in niches along the walls. No wonder there were so many spirits here. The only light was a torch set into a slot in the wall.

“Oh, aye,” the man smiled. “Tis me. Surprised are ya? Did ya think the Captain took care of me in Port Royal? Naye. Gave me a scar.” He pointed to the puckered line that ran across his cheek. “But nothing like you’ll have when I’m through with you.”

“Why?” There was the door, dark and indistinct. He felt for the way to open it.

“Why? Why you ask? We had the fastest ship, the best crew, the wiliest captain, and then you, you bloody catamite, you ruined him.” Carver’s hand slipped up, cupped Jensen’s balls and squeezed, but Jensen refused to cry out. He felt sick and lost focus.

“I’ll gut you,” Jensen said through gritted teeth.

“Not this time, Molly,” Carver said. “No, that dagger in your boot won’t do you no good. In fact, maybe I’ll use that to carve up that pretty face, eh?” He let go of Jensen’s balls, and his hand slipped down Jensen’s leg and withdrew the dagger from his boot. Carver stood and unbuttoned his trousers. He stepped forward, straddling Jensen’s lap, and pulled out his cock. “Now then, let’s see what the Captain gave up The Huntress for, eh? Open wide.”

Jensen clenched his jaw and glared. He tried to get back to the door in his head, but Carver put the tip of the dagger to Jensen’s throat. “Come on now. Show me what that mouth is for.” Carver rubbed the slick head over Jensen’s lips and the tip of the knife pricked his skin. He clawed at the door, but his mind wouldn’t focus. The smell of balls and ass nearly turned his stomach, and a trickle of blood ran down his neck. He opened his mouth. Carver pushed forward with a groan. He pulled out once and thrust back in.

“Nothing special,” he said. “A whore’s mouth is a whore’s ...” He screamed as Jensen bit down. Blood filled Jensen’s mouth, but he didn’t let up. Carver dropped the dagger and grabbed Jensen by the hair.

Determined as he was to bite the offending flesh in two, Jensen found it impossible. He was nearly drowning in the blood running down his throat, and he opened his mouth. Carver fell back onto the floor, clutching his groin and whimpering. Jensen pushed himself far enough from the wall to slip the stiletto from the stays in his dress. He made quick work of the rope on his wrists and snatched up his dagger from where Carver had dropped it.

Carver was writhing in pain and moaning. Jensen lunged forward, shoved the man onto his back, and straddled his belly with his arms pinned down. “You bloody poltroon, you aren’t good enough shine my boots with your tongue,” Jensen said. “I should have gutted you the first time. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Carver groaned. “Ah, no, no, don’t, don’t, M’Lord.”

“Don’t you call me that,” Jensen said. “You call me Master and beg for your life.”

“Please, please, Master,” Carver cried. Tears and snot were running down his face. “It wasn’t my idea. It was the boy.”

“Boy? What boy?” Jensen asked.

Carver sobbed. “Aw, my willie. I’m ruined.”

Jensen ran the blade of the dagger along Carver’s jawline. “What boy, you swine?!”

“The boy in the bar,” Carver whined. “The gray-eyed boy.”

“Cohen?”

“Aye, aye, the first mate.”

“Thank you,” Jensen said. He moved backward. “I’ll make this quick.” He plunged the blade of the dagger into Carver just below the breastbone and yanked it down to his groin. Carver’s scream was cut off when his body convulsed and went limp. Jensen staggered to his feet. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, which came away crimson.

  
Jared and the first mate had collapsed onto the quarter deck steps. The deck of the ship was a landscape of bright moonlight and deep shadows. Jared leaned back on his elbows with Cohen beside him. They had talked about the card game, about their London neighborhoods, and how they’d gone to sea. Jared had found another bottle of rum and opened it.

“It takes a prodigious amount of rum to affect you, Captain,” Cohen said.

“Aye, so it does,” Jared replied, “but Jen’s been known to drink me under the table on occasion.”

“You are a mountain of a man, tall and lean.” He turned toward Jared.

“Cohen ...”

“Matthew.”

Jared could feel the man’s breath on his cheek, and he pushed himself to his feet. “You should hit your bunk.”

Cohen was right there beside him, trying to push Jared back against the side of the quarter deck. “Your Molly is off amusing himself in some taberna or burdel. Why shouldn’t you enjoy yourself in his absence?” He rubbed himself against Jared, his cock hard against Jared’s thigh.

Why indeed? Jared thought. How long had it been since they’d left the bar, and Jensen had not returned. Surely, he wasn’t still playing cards. Something about that troubled Jared. “You are drunk, Matthew. You ...” He heard the rustle of silk and saw the glint of steel just before he was drenched in a hot gush of the first mate’s blood. There was the not unfamiliar sound of a man choking on his own blood, and he shoved Cohen away from him. The body crashed to the deck of the ship.

“Are you mad?!” he yelled at the tall shadowy figure. There was a flash bright green, and he rushed Jensen, grabbed him by the throat, driving him back against the rail. Jensen made to bring the dagger to Jared’s throat, but Jared twisted it out of his hand. “You are a rabid dog,” Jared growled.

“No!” Jensen yelled. His eyes were two dark pits and mouth and chin were covered in something dark. His face looked like a skull in the pale moonlight. Jared kicked the door of their cabin open and shoved Jensen inside. He fell sprawled across the floor.

“Stay!” Jared said. He lit the lantern and hung it from a hook beside the bed. Jensen had scrabbled backward until his back was against the bunk. He was wearing an unfamiliar red and black gown, but his own boots stuck out from beneath the hem. His head was bare, his hair a mess, and his face, throat, and chest were smear with blood. “Holy Mary, what have you done?”

“What have you done?” Jensen sneered.

Jared grabbed him by the throat again, dragged him to his feet, and shook him. “What’s wrong with you?!” Jared demanded.

Jensen kicked out, catching Jared in the shin with enough force to cause him to let go. Jensen staggered back into the table sending cups rolling to the floor. “I’m mad! A mad dissolute, bastard of a whore! That’s not news, eh? You knew that from the beginning! Used to like the crazy dasher!”

“No, Jen,” Jared said. “What the bloody hell’s this about? Whose blood is that?”

Jensen just stared with cold, dead eyes and shrugged. “Some dead whore like the one out there.”

“That so? Eh?!” he approached Jensen slowly, but the rum had made him slow when Jensen brought the cheese knife up from the table behind him. Jared just deflected the blade, and it caught a glancing slice to his jaw instead of his throat. He grabbed Jensen’s arm as it came back up and spun him around. He forced him over the table, pinned him with his body, and held the knife to his lover’s throat.

“Imagine you succeeded, love,” Jared said. “Imagine me dead. Is that what you want?”

“Why don’t you use that?” Jensen growled.

Jared threw the knife to the floor and grabbed a handful of hair. He jerked Jensen’s head back. “No, I don’t think so,” Jared said. “I’ve told you not to threaten me.” He unbuckled his belt and slipped it off.

“What are you doing? What are you doing?!” Jensen demanded.

“I’m teaching you a lesson you won’t forget, darling,” Jared said. He pulled the skirt up to expose Jensen’s naked ass and thighs. He raised the looped belt high before bringing it down with a crack across Jensen’s buttocks.

Jensen roared and thrashed against the table. “You son of a bitch! Swine! Let me up!”

“Stop it!” Jared ordered. “Take your punishment like a man, Jen!” He brought the belt down again and again, putting the power of his broad shoulders behind each strike. Jensen was silent but for his labored breath and continued to struggle. Jared laid stripes from the upper swell of Jensen’s ass to the backs of his knees. Soon, his pale skin took on a rosy glow, and he quit fighting. When Jared paused to catch his breath, he could hear Jensen’s sobs. His fist loosened in Jensen’s hair, and he caressed Jensen’s neck.

“Now, tell me whose blood that is on your face,” Jared said.

Jensen’s breath hitched in his throat before he got the word out, “Carver’s.”

“Carver?” Jensen had spoken so low, he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He leaned over Jensen, so his mouth was at his ear. “Did you say Carver, love?”

Jensen lay limp beneath him, but he nodded. “He was waiting for me outside the taberna. He put my dagger to my throat and made me suck his cock.” He grinned then with bloody lips.

Jared pressed his face into Jensen’s hair. “Oh bloody fucking hell …” He understood the implication of Jensen’s words, and sick and twisted as it was, his cock grew hard against the crease of Jensen’s beaten ass.

Jensen laughed. “And I gutted him. I said I would.”

“Yes, yes,” Jared agreed as he raised up enough to unbutton his trousers. Jared spit into his hand, slicked it up his cock, and pushed into Jensen’s tight hole. He felt Jensen tense, but paused only a moment before thrusting all the way in. It was too tight, too hot, too soft and good and pure. Jensen moaned and tipped his hips up.

“Please, please,” Jensen gasped.

“You need me to fuck the bad out of you?”

“Yes!”

Jared increased the force and speed of his thrusts. “Like this?

“Yes!”

“You need me to fuck all the hurt and spite and jealousy out?”

“Aaah, yes! Yes!” Jensen convulsed on the table top, and Jared’s climax hit him like a gale. He pushed deep into Jensen as he spilled his seed. He rested his elbows on each side of Jensen’s head and kissed his neck. It was then he saw blood matted in Jensen’s hair.

“Did he hit you, Jen?”

“Yes,” Jensen said.

“Have some rum,” Jared said.

Jared stood and let his cock slip from Jensen’s hole, and Jensen just lay across the table a moment with the dress pulled up and his red, beaten ass leaking come down his leg. Jared went to the cabinet and found a jar of ointment. Jensen lie unmoving across the tabletop, reminiscent of the night they’d met, but he’d been so fresh and untouched.

Jared pressed a soft kiss the fevered swell of Jensen’s buttocks. He scooped a generous amount of ointment onto his fingers and began smoothing it over Jensen’s fiery skin. Jensen was still and quiet. He didn’t speak until Jared was nearly finished.

“He was in on it,” Jensen whispered.

Jared set the jar down and leaned over him. “What? Who?”

Jensen didn’t move, but for his eyes lifting to Jared’s. “Cohen. He and Carver.”

“Oh, Jen,” Jared breathed. He pulled the boy into his arms. “Oh, love, I’m sorry.”

  
Jensen awoke alone. There was a dull ache in his head, and it felt as though Carver had dragged him through the streets. When he pushed himself into a sitting position, his ass and thighs felt like they were on fire again. He grabbed a dressing gown from the floor beside the bunk and wrapped it around his shoulders before leaning back against the wall.

He wondered where Jared was and why he hadn’t come to bed. He thought they’d worked things out. The crimson dress still lay in a pile on the floor where he’d taken it off. Jensen’s stomach growled. His eyes stung. He could feel the swell and roll of a ship in open sea.

The door swung open then, and Jared entered carrying a tray. “Ah, you’re awake, love,” he said. He sat down on the edge of the bunk and put the tray on Jensen’s lap. There was a plate with bangers, eggs and fried bread as well as a small pot of coffee. Jared didn’t care for the bitter brew, but Jensen had acquired an addiction. He took up the cup right away and sipped the steaming drink.

“Mmm, I needed this,” he said.

Jared smiled and looked him over. He stroked Jensen’s cheek, let his fingers trail back through Jensen’s hair, and gently probed the lump on the back of head. Jensen winced. “That’s quite a goose egg you’ve got there.”

“Yes, still aches,” Jensen said.

“Aw, I’m sorry I pulled your hair last night, Jen,” Jared said.

“You didn’t know,” Jensen replied.

“No, I didn’t know,” Jared agreed. Jensen knew that he meant more than just the bump on the head. He meant all of it.

“Never mind,” Jensen said. “I took care of it.”

Jared chuckled. “Indeed, you did.” He snagged a banger from Jensen’s plate and took a bite. “Mm, these are excellent. Eat before it gets cold.”

Jensen took a bite of bread and in no time the plate was cleaned with a little help from Jared. He poured more coffee for Jensen and put the tray on the table. He picked up the abandoned dress and examined the blood stains.

“It’s a shame,” Jensen said. “So pretty.”

Jared dropped it on the floor. “Perhaps Skunk can get the stain out.”

“Do you think?” Jensen asked.

“If not, I’ll have another made for you.” Jared sat down again and pulled his boots off before stretching out beside Jensen.

“And a hat. I lost my hat,” Jensen said. He pouted at the thought of that loss.

“Yes, love, and a pretty new hat.”

“Where were you last night anyway?” Jensen said.

Jared yawned. “I was making the rounds of tabernas looking for a new first mate to convince into service.”

“And did you?”

“Aye.” Jared closed his eyes as Jensen carded his fingers through his hair.

“Is he at the wheel now?”

“Aw, no, he’s sleeping it off below decks. Best not to untie him until we’re well out of port.”

“You abducted a first mate?” Jensen couldn’t stop the smile that pulled the corners of his mouth.

“Aye, Anne Bonny’s.” Jared rolled to his side and put his arm over Jensen’s lap.

Jensen laughed. “She’ll come looking for him, you know.”

“Not if she doesn’t know where to look,” Jared yawned again.

“And where are we going?” Jensen asked.

“I was thinking that Havana has a nice ring to it,” Jared said. “Maybe make a few stops along the coast on the way.”

“Practice our Spanish,” Jensen chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jensen finished his coffee and set the empty cup aside.

“Lie with me, Jen,” Jared said.

Jensen tossed the robe to the floor and curled up with his back to Jared’s chest. Jared kissed the lump on the back of Jensen’s head. “I am sorry I pulled your hair, love.”

“But you aren’t sorry you whipped my ass.”

“No, not sorry for that at all.”

“Nor I,” Jensen said. He felt Jared shake with silent laughter. “Can I have my dagger back?”

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Yes,” Jensen replied, “for now.”

“You are a vicious beast, M’Lord,” Jared growled in his ear.

Jensen ground his ass back against Jared’s burgeoning erection. “Your vicious beast, Captain.”

**~~~ The End**


End file.
